


Sensei and Souffles

by FarenMaddox



Category: Shiritsu Horitsuba Gakuen
Genre: Food Sex, I always feel like I should apologize for this fic but I never do, M/M, PWP, Porny porn porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarenMaddox/pseuds/FarenMaddox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cooking lesson goes a little farther than intended.  Okay, a lot farther.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensei and Souffles

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what possessed me to write this.  I really, really don't.  Yuui gives (ADULT!)Watanuki a cooking lesson and screws his brains out on the kitchen table.  WHAT IS THIS EVEN? [Original request and fill here at the LJ clampkink anon meme.](http://clampkink.livejournal.com/608.html?thread=1006176)

“I need to practice my soufflés.”

It had been such an innocent beginning, Yuui thought in bewilderment as he thrust into his former student and heard him groan so greedily that it sent a ripple down Yuui’s spine. A totally reasonable request, help with soufflés. It had taken him years to get his own soufflés right, and he had nothing but the best of intentions in agreeing to this lesson.

The groans of pleasure filled him up with heady delight, nearly as much as the feeling of that exquisitely tight arse clenching around him, and he thrust so hard that the table moved, skittering with a protesting squeal a few inches over the linoleum. He’d never had any complaints about Syaoron as a lover, but then he had never actually realized how quiet his boyfriend was. Or was it more that this one was unusually loud? Either way, his gasps and moans had Yuui feeling rather . . . Would it be tactless to say cocksure, right now?

“Faster.”

The word hissed into his ear made him shiver so violently that he nearly came before he was ready. He had to pause, hear that guttural, helpless noise of protest at the cessation of movement, and then he did as he was told. Faster. Harder. The table squeaked and squealed and skittered, but it had only been a few inches from the wall to begin with. It thumped quietly against the barrier. Then— Thunk. Thunk. He’d have to sweep the sprinkle of scraped-off paint off the floor.

Thunk. “F-f-fast— uh, yes yes yes yes yes yes—” Thunk. Thunk. Thunk thunk thunk thunk— “OMIGOD YES YES YES!”

Yuui hadn’t come this hard in a long time, and he had to catch himself with his hands on the edge of the table or he’d have fallen. The cock bobbing in front of him looked so hard that you could go to batting practice with it. It must be torture. Yuui grabbed hold of it, rubbed his fingers in the leaking moisture at the tip, and made maybe three quick jerks on it before he was stepping closer to catch the hot white mess in his shirttails so it didn’t get on the table.

The blue eyes looking up at him were glazed and stunned.

“Well. That’s how it’s done,” Yuui said, inadequately.

The whimpering noise was more than adequate as an answer.

 

* * *

 

“I need to practice my soufflés,” Watanuki explained to Yuui, pressing the phone against his ear with his shoulder so he had both hands free to defend his alfredo from wandering fingers trying to dip into the sauce pan. He smacked Doumeki’s knuckles with his cream-coated spoon. “Go away!” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?”

Doumeki smirked, and inserted one cream-covered and stinging knuckle into his mouth, licking it clean and then sucking on it—to SOOTHE THE PAIN, obviously! He retreated from Watanuki’s furious gesturing with the spoon and exited the kitchen. Watanuki closed his eyes. No, it was clearly not just to soothe the pain. The idiot had been turning up at his house far too often lately, and making too many gestures of innuendo for Watanuki to mistake his meaning. Doumeki was quite finished with chastity and was rather eager to be getting on with the next stage in their relationship.

“SORRY, Yuui-sensei,” he said with exaggerated emphasis, just in case the moron was still listening. “Anyway, the thing is . . . There’s a guest to my culinary school, two days from now. He owns a really wonderful restaurant that specializes in French cuisine and he’s going to be observing my class, so the teacher wants us to do soufflés to impress him. None of us are very good at it, yet. And I remember that you made them a few times, for the chairman’s little private dinners . . .”

The television began to blare in the other room, which was Doumeki’s declaration of impatience: get off the phone, get out of the kitchen, get off your high horse. Focus on him and just have sex with him already. It was all well and good for DOUMEKI to be impatient, because he didn’t care a whit about what Watanuki wanted. Or was ready for. Or . . .

Okay, so maybe he was just a prude. He didn’t know HOW, and he wasn’t going to watch porn or something to find out. He knew precisely four gay men, and the thought of asking Fai-sensei or Kurogane-sensei for pointers had actually given him nightmares two days in a row. Horrible ones that made him wake up screaming and damp with sweat. The other two were his former classmate Syaoron and Yuui-sensei. He couldn’t ask Syaoron. It would be . . . Very, very uncomfortable, to say the least. Syaoron had an unsettling sense of humour, and a way of looking at you that made you feel like he was looking right through you.

Yuui-sensei, however . . . They’d always gotten on. Watanuki was the top student in his class, was bright and cheerful and asked pertinent questions and was always willing to stay after to help clean up what the other students had missed. And the teacher was warm and kind and never pushed Watanuki’s buttons the way the others did, encouraged his creativity in the kitchen and wrote such an eloquent letter of recommendation for Watanuki’s culinary school application that the admissions counselor had threatened to frame it. Watanuki had looked up to the man from his first day in the classroom, both for his culinary skill and for his gracious, even-tempered manner.

Everything important that Watanuki had learned in his life had come from Yuui-sensei. He knew just where to go to ask about . . . soufflés.

 

* * *

  
“I need to practice my soufflés,” Watanuki had said. So Yuui went to work setting up the kitchen for several different types. They would do a few savory recipes first, so he laid out mushrooms and onion—oh, and that shredded beef in broth leftover from the dinner he’d made when he and Syaoron had invited Fai and Kurogane over the other night. Then they’d do their dessert soufflés, traditional chocolate dusted with powdered sugar—reminded, he snagged a box of powdered sugar from the cupboard— and then a lemon soufflé with fresh raspberries and a drizzle of— hmmm . . . Maybe some type of white chocolate? He rummaged in the cupboard for the white chocolate bark, and got out some extra butter to soften.

He also opened a bottle of Cabernet Franc so it could breathe for a while. They might throw a bit into one of the recipes, or they might just drink it. Yuui was a firm believer in never cooking with wine you wouldn’t drink straight.

  
He surveyed the kitchen with satisfaction, thinking about it less as a homeowner who should be horrified by the clutter and more as a teacher who was prepared for a marathon session with a student. Even better, this was his favourite student whom he hadn’t taught it quite some time and whose bright presence he’d missed in his classroom. The kitchen would be a complete disaster when they were through, of course, but it didn’t matter since Syaoron was out of town. Syaoran and Sakura had moved to Hong Kong to live with the boys’ family while they were finishing university, and Syaoron was in China for a few weeks visiting everyone.

Just thinking about Syaoron was making him frustrated. The man had only moved in with Yuui last year, when they’d decided that it had been long enough since he’d graduated that no one would accuse Yuui of being a creep. Yuui had been living alone for most of his adult life, and he’d only been sharing this place with his boyfriend for . . . About eight or nine months? He shouldn’t be this frustrated with his own hand for company. Syaoron was only gone for three weeks. Yuui could go three weeks without sex. He COULD, as he repeatedly told himself when jerking off in the shower just made him feel even less satisfied.

The doorbell rang, and Yuui deliberately shoved aside thoughts of sex, Syaoron, and jerking off in the shower out of his mind. He opened the door.

“Watanuki!” he said happily, drawing the younger man inside with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s so good to see you! You look great!”

“Thanks,” Watanuki smiled, looking around curiously and taking in the apartment. What there was to take in, anyway, He and Syaoron both worked really hard and didn’t have a lot of time to think about home décor, really. They had a loveseat and an armchair and a coffee table and a television. Behind those was a table that was shoved into a corner, nearly against the wall, because they could sit side by side to eat dinner and therefore save floor space. The kitchen was only a few steps from there and completely lacking in homey touches like curtains for the windows. They were both on the practical side and never really thought about that stuff.

Watanuki’s smile became just a tad smirk-like. “I know this is pointless to say, Yuui-sensei, but this place could use a woman’s touch.”

“Oh, har-har,” Yuui replied mildly. “And call me Yuui, please. I haven’t been your teacher for ages.”

Watanuki flushed a little at that, and Yuui was stunned to realize it was even cuter now that Watanuki was older. There was something adorable about a grown man blushing. Maybe a little too adorable, in fact, thank God Syaoron wasn’t like that.

“Oh, I just— I don’t know, you’re still teaching me, and you’re still a bit older than me, and—”

“It would please me, a LOT,” Yuui said with emphasis, “if you did not ever talk about how much older I am than you. Since I am now shamelessly living with your old classmate, whom you might recall is your age.”

Watanuki at least chuckled at that, instead of trying to apologize. “Okay, I’ll call you Yuui, then.” He looked happy, like Yuui was giving him a gift or something. “How is Syaoron, anyway? Is he still in school?”

“Nearly done. He just landed an internship at Mitsubishi, I think it was, in their design department. It’s not engineering rockets yet, but it’s a step closer.”

“Good for him. You’re still happy at Holitsuba?”

“I am,” Yuui smiled, glad to hear the warmth in his own voice and realize it was true. It had been quite a change of pace, leaving his restaurant in Italy to come teach in Japan. Watanuki, Doumeki, Syaoran, Sakura, and his own boyfriend . . . They were his first students, and they were still the nearest to his heart, but he had come to love the crazy academy even after they’d gone. The opportunity to live close to his twin was a large part of it, but he had been surprised and happy to discover that he really enjoyed teaching.

They just smiled at each other, feeling warm and reminiscent and happy until Yuui realized they were just standing there smiling at each other. He cleared his throat and waved Watanuki into the kitchen, pouring them each a glass of wine.

“Here’s to impressing your guest tomorrow,” he said cheerfully, clinking his glass against his student’s. “Shall we get started?”

 

* * *

  
“I need to practice my soufflés,” Watanuki mumbled as the last of the bottle splashed into his glass, “not get drunk.”

“Pfffft,” Yuui replied, which was the best he could come up with on short notice. “Who’s drunk?”

They’d opened a bottle of Merlot when they’d realized how quickly they were going through the Cab Franc, so it could air out by the time they were ready to start in on it. After all, why not? They’d be here for a few hours, at least, no harm in it.

They’d made small talk as they’d started working on the savory soufflés, chatting about what Watanuki was learning and what Yuui was teaching, about Doumeki’s application to start working at his university once he finished his degree, about how Fai had flown Kurogane’s underwear from a flagpole on April Fool’s Day, except they had been the chairman’s lacy panties that he was CLAIMING were Kurogane’s and Yuui had actually briefly worried that the gym teacher was going to die of an aneurysm. They’d also drank the whole bottle of wine as they worked.

Watanuki was fidgety, for some reason. All throughout the lessons, he’d been acting attentive, nodding in the right places, jumping in to beat the egg whites after Yuui had demonstrated the proper technique— something crunched underfoot and Yuui realized that some of their many discarded eggshells had wound up on the kitchen floor. Still, he seemed nervous and twitchy. His eyes kept glancing sideways, and several times he’d opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

He’d always been Yuui’s favourite, Yuui thought with a warm, fuzzy fondness as he admonished Watanuki against opening the oven door before the soufflés had baked enough and watched the dark-haired boy nod earnestly. He was such a good student, and a really nice person. He was Yuui’s best success story so far during his admittedly short career at Holitsuba. And it was funny, how hesitant he was about whatever he wanted to ask. He could ask Yuui anything, and realizing that he was holding something back made Yuui feel strangely affectionate about Watanuki’s hang-ups. He was a bit neurotic, wasn’t he?

His mouth opened, then his eyes shifted sideways and he pressed his lips shut. He had nice lips. Yuui had never noticed. He sipped his Merlot and wondered if cooking drunk might not have been the best idea. When hand-eye coordination decreased, the soufflé would suffer.

He gave Watanuki the okay to open the oven door and check on the currently-baking soufflé. He leaned over Watanuki’s shoulder and eyed it. “Needs one more minute,” he said quietly, and Watanuki abruptly shivered. He hadn’t realized he’d leaned in so close, but his breath had stirred the hair around Watanuki’s ear and tickled him. His chest brushed Watanuki’s shoulder as he stood back up. Whoops.

Watanuki straightened up and turned around, and he almost said something again. Then he turned around instead and got the soufflé out of the oven. Yuui nodded in approval, watching the way he handled the ramekin and the care with which he set it down.

“How long do you have to get it to the table?” he quizzed.

“Five minutes or so?”

Yuui squinted at him.

“No, more like three,” Watanuki decided. “Since I don’t want it to deflate the minute the server sets it down in front of the customer.”

Yuui nodded again. Watanuki used one of the plates they’d gotten out to present the beef soufflé, drizzling a bit of thick gravy in a pretty arc on the edge and lightly laying down a sprig of parsley. He frowned at the plate, ponderous with thought.

“Needs colour,” he pronounced. “I’m sure whatever kitchen I’d be working in would have some shredded carrots or red cabbage I could use.”

Yuui beamed at him. “You’re going to make a fantastic chef, Watanuki.”

  
Watanuki flushed, more deeply than the normal light feathering of red in his cheeks—probably the wine. “Thanks.”

“It’s true,” Yuui insisted. “You’re sure of yourself when it comes to food, and it shows. You’re graceful in the kitchen.”

“Like you are,” Watanuki smiled at him. Then he took a deep, almost heaving breath. “Yuui-sensei I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” he said, not mocking him for how long he’d danced around it.

“You— you know Doumeki and I are—we’re, well, we—”

“You’re a couple,” Yuui prompted him, gently.

“Well, we haven’t—we’re not— we’re dating, but I wasn’t READY to do—”

Yuui couldn’t help laughing at Watanuki’s red face and his incoherent stammering. “And now you are ready, is that what you mean to say?”

Watanuki threw back the last of his Cab Franc with a gulp and reached for the Merlot. “I think so,” he muttered. “I just have a small problem . . .”

“Oh?”

“I haven’t ever done it before,” Watanuki mumbled into his wine glass.

Yuui felt his smile slip a bit. Watanuki was nearly TWENTY TWO. And he and Doumeki had been cautiously circling each other for— Yuui made a quick calculation— nearly six years.

“God, that poor bastard,” Yuui muttered.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Yuui-sensei?” Watanuki whispered, raising his face from his glass and looking at him hopefully with his slightly wet baby blues. “Will you tell me how to . . .?”

Yuui cursed. “If I tell you, will you stop doing . . . THAT?”

“What?”

“Being such an ingenue!” he snapped.

Watanuki frowned in puzzlement. “Oh, right, I forgot, I have to call you Yuui now.”

“So you’re completely inexperienced?” Yuui asked him, feeling slightly overwhelmed and helpless.

“Yup,” Watanuki said morosely, drinking more wine. He raised his face and a tiny dribble of wine leaked from the corner of his lip. His tongue crept out to lick it away, parting his pink lips and wriggling a bit. Yuui swallowed thickly. “I mean, not TOTALLY, I—” He stopped, blushing so deep that he nearly matched his wine.

“Watanuki,” Yuui said patiently. “Why don’t you just tell me what you DO know?”

Instead, Watanuki showed him. He leaned forward, tilted his face back just a bit, and strained up to reach Yuui’s mouth. He kissed him, slow and open-mouthed and clumsy from his drunkenness. Yuui immediately opened his mouth to get at the tongue he’d caught a glimpse of. His mouth was so saturated with wine that it tasted more like Merlot than human male. But the HEAT coming off the younger man— Watanuki’s body was so very WARM. Yuui stepped closer, pressing himself into that warmth.

Watanuki pulled his head back.

“Is— is that all you know?” Yuui choked out.

“Not exactly,” Watanuki answered. His lips fell sloppily onto Yuui’s neck, leaving a wet trail as he worked his way down his throat. His fingers fumbled at the buttons of Yuui’s shirt, creating an opening for his mouth as he kissed his way downward. He slowly pushed Yuui’s shirt right off him, kissing all the way down to the fine, curling hairs on his lower stomach. He looked pointedly down at Yuui’s crotch, which was beginning to awaken with interest, and then looked back up. “I’ve done THAT already.”

“I see,” Yuui said. He was supposed to be doing something, here, he thought fuzzily. Teaching. He was teaching him about soufflés, about cooking, but now he had to teach him about sex. Hey. Food and sex. He and Syaoron had figured out a few things about that quite a while ago.

“You want your first time to be special, right?” he asked, reaching out and cupping Watanuki’s cheek in his hand. He took a drink of his wine, then set the glass on the counter, still holding some of the liquid in his mouth. “You gotta do something unique. Like this.” He kissed Watanuki in that same wet, open way, and the tiny bit of wine spread warm over both of their tongues. Some dribbled down Watanuki’s chin, and he licked it up.

“Unh,” Watanuki said in surprise.

“We’ve got lots of stuff here,” Yuui gestured at the messy kitchen. “We should experiment. What does Doumeki like, anyway?”

Watanuki picked the raspberries, to start. He picked one up between his thumb and forefinger, and he used his hips to press Yuui up against the door of the fridge while he slid the berry into Yuui’s mouth. Yuui took the berry in with an audible sucking noise, drawing Watanuki’s finger in with it and licking the juice of the crushed berry off. Watanuki’s wide eyes told him all he needed to know.

“Obviously you’re not going to do this fully clothed,” Yuui reminded him, and his half-numb fingers clumsily attempted to grasp the hem of Watanuki’s t-shirt. He slid his hands up his ribs, drawing the shirt up slowly as he tickled at Watanuki’s sensitive skin and made him shudder. He brushed a thumb admiringly over a dusky pink nipple before carefully pulling the shirt over Watanuki’s head. It took his glasses with it, but Yuui just threw the clothing with the eyewear tangled up in it onto the kitchen counter. Watanuki’s hair was slightly disheveled now, and he ran his fingers through it to make it even more tousled.

“You look more turned-on that way,” he explained. “You should make sure you look a little rumpled. It’s a good look for you.”

Watanuki nodded, but he was dipping a finger into the butter that had melted on the counter as their cooking had made the kitchen a bit hot. He ran an oily finger from Yuui’s sternum to his bellybutton, then bent his head and began to lick it away.

“You think he’ll like this?” he muttered, his words buzzing softly against Yuui’s skin and making his fingers scrabble fruitlessly at the smooth door of the fridge.

“Oh,” Yuui gasped. “Yes.”

Butter on Watanuki’s stomach, he thought. Reciprocation. Now.

He was reaching for the butter when he remembered that he was supposed to be teaching Watanuki something.

“He’ll like it if you show him that you want his attention, too,” he said, sounding conversational, like a teacher. Because he was TEACHING. “Not just that you want to give him yours.”

Watanuki leaned back against the counter, which made his slender hips thrust outward and revealed that there was some muscle hidden in the curve of his flat stomach. He was leaning back to get at the dark chocolate sauce they’d made, because they were going to garnish the chocolate soufflé with the raspberries and a drizzle of chocolate in addition to the powdered sugar. Watanuki carefully, drunkenly took the spoon out of the bowl of liquid chocolate and drizzled it lightly onto his nipples, frowning with concentration. The sauce immediately began to trickle down onto his stomach and Yuui saw goose bumps raise on his skin.

“I made a mess,” he said, sounding lazy and bored. “I need you to clean it.”

Yuui licked his lips. “Yes, like that. He’ll like that.”

Watanuki’s eyes were demanding and impatient. “Yuui,” he said firmly. “I made a MESS. Right NOW. So YOU have to clean it.”

Yuui eventually realized that the best way to do that was to seat Watanuki in a chair from the table and get down on his knees. He started at the bottom of the drip and worked his way up, ending with the light smear left on the peaked nipple and licking it roughly, since by then his tongue was dry. Watanuki was shuddering and grabbing at his shoulders with clawing fingers. Yuui’s tongue didn’t stop as he tugged at Watanuki’s belt and began undoing his pants.

“H—hey,” Watanuki panted, sounding not particularly urgent about stopping him. “Why . . .?”

“I thought you wanted me to teach you,” Yuui said. Something about this was probably wrong, but the wine had made it incredibly difficult to think. And Watanuki was so warm and needy and he hadn’t had sex in almost three weeks . . .

“Oh, right,” Watanuki said dreamily. “Okay. What next?”

What was next was that Yuui freed Watanuki’s erection from the confines of his clothing, and then allowed Watanuki to follow suit. Watanuki’s cock being right there in his face and his own drunken state making him feel so heavy . . . It would be so much easier to give him a blow job and then they could go to sleep. But no. Teaching. He was teaching. Watanuki already knew about blow jobs.

He grabbed Watanuki under the arms, lifting him. He obeyed lazily, getting up and then laying down on top of the table in a boneless, languid way, spreading his legs without a qualm as Yuui stood between them and leaned over him, taking Watanuki’s wrists and pulling them over Watanuki’s head and holding them down atop the table. Their chests were brushing together and so were their cocks. This was not something he should do with Watanuki, right? Because he had a boyfriend. But this was just teaching. This wasn’t about boyfriends. Watanuki just wanted to know how to do this, because he had somebody he loved, too. Lessons. This was just about the soufflé.

Watanuki’s nipples had gone soft again after Yuui stopped licking them. He frowned and flicked them with his thumbs to peak them again, quite liking the pert pinkness of them. Watanuki made a whining noise and threaded his hands into Yuui’s hair, dragging his head down to them. Yuui obliged. Somehow, the empty bottle of Cabernet Franc had made it to the table. There was still a few drops at the bottom of the bottle, so he splashed them onto Watanuki’s stomach and cleaned it. Watanuki groaned a lot as he proceeded.

“He’ll definitely like that,” Yuui said encouragingly. “Make sure he knows when he’s doing something right.”

Watanuki was always a quick study.

 

* * *

 

“I need to practice my soufflés,” Yuui gasped, reaching for the butter. “That’s what you said. Liar.”

“Sorry,” Watanuki whimpered, biting helplessly at his own hand in an effort to hold himself back.

“Last lesson,” Yuui said as he slid his finger into Watanuki’s tight hole, the melted butter smoothing his way inside. “Always be prepared. If I’d known I was— well, always have lube, okay. This is going to be a bitch to clean up.”

Then he was thrusting merrily away into his former student, and said former student was moaning and grinding and rocking his hips in a steady rhythm to match Yuui’s and it was all so warm and pleasant and the thunking of the table against the wall should have made him realize what a bad idea this was, but then they both came and it was all over and definitely far too late to worry that object lessons were not the right way to teach people about sex.

Yuui felt heavy and ponderous and very, very satisfied. He slithered up onto the table next to Watanuki and closed his eyes. He just needed a minute.

He woke up six hours later when the sun from the kitchen window started to nearly blind him. He rolled away from it with a groan and immediately yelped in panic at how stiff his body was. He’d fallen asleep on the table. He’d fallen asleep on his kitchen table NAKED WITH WATANUKI.

Watanuki shrieked and scrambled away from him, and flailed about wildly searching for his clothes. “OHMYGOD,” he kept screaming. “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD.”

“Shut up!” Yuui hollered at him, dragging his button-down shirt over his freezing cold shoulders. “And for God’s sake take a shower, you’ve got BUTTER all over your thighs.”

Watanuki screamed like a girl, he thought as he sat down in the chair and let his head thump down on his defiled table. But he did run toward the bathroom, so hopefully he was showering. Yuui just waited, dully certain that he was going to hell, until Watanuki emerged with dripping hair and a wild-eyed look.

“Listen,” Yuui said commandingly. “We aren’t going to talk about this. Ever. Not to others, not to each other, not to anyone. I taught you what you wanted to know, and that’s that. Okay? Not a word.”

“Yeah,” Watanuki said breathlessly, searching the kitchen for his glasses and jamming them onto his face. “That’s a great plan.” He started to run out the door, but then he turned just before closing it and said, “Yuui-sensei? Thanks.”

He slammed the door before Yuui could respond. Yuui sighed at the kitchen, and went to take a shower. The mess could wait that long.

It wasn’t until seven that evening that he got a text message on his cell phone: _it would have gone a lot better if i hadn’t been LIMPING the whoel time_

Yuui laughed, deleted the message, and proceeded to never think about it again.

 

* * *

 

Doumeki watched with disbelief as Watanuki’s long fingers grasped at a piece of ice and began running it in a slow line from his own waist over his stomach. His arms broke out with goose bumps from the cold, and the ice left behind a wet line on his pale skin. His lips parted and he breathed deeply as he skated the piece of ice over his chest. He drew it all the way up to his throat, and then he slipped what was left of it into his mouth.

His tongue poked out just a bit, revealing the piece of ice gleaming there between his lips.

“Well?” Watanuki said, throaty and demanding. “You said you were thirsty?”

“Fuck,” Doumeki swore, and reached into the bowl for more ice. “Where did you learn THIS?”

Watanuki grinned and accepted the new piece of ice into his mouth. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I learned it for you. Now are you thirsty or not?”

Doumeki was very, very thirsty.

 

* * *

 

“Hey. Can I ask for something tonight?” Yuui asked lazily as Syaoron walked up beside him to peer into the pot on the stove. He was just making stew tonight. Something simple sounded good after the week they’d been having. Syaoron had only been home for a few days and things had been hectic. Too hectic to welcome him home properly.

“You can top,” Syaoron said immediately, and then a familiar hand slid over the curve of his ass. “I was going to see if you wanted to, anyway. I’ve been studying all day and I’m too stressed to be tired. I kinda just want you to pound me into the mattress and wear me out.”

“Oh,” Yuui said in surprise, and then smiled wickedly. “Okay.”

Syaoron left his hand where it was, comfortable snug on his ass, and Yuui was suddenly so happy that he could barely breathe. It was just so . . . So SYAORON. That possessive hand, declaring that it was HIS ass to touch and he GOT what he wanted, even when what he wanted was to be submissive.

Yuui turned his head and gave him an open-mouthed, needy kiss. Syaoron returned it with interest, but when he pulled back there was a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Miss me?”

“Oh, yes,” Yuui sighed, leaning into Syaoron and being held by those all-too-sure hands.

“So what did you want to ask for, anyway?”

Yuui kept his eyes on Syaoron’s clavicle. “I want you to be noisy,” he muttered.

“Noisy?”

“I want you to scream for me,” he said, lifting his eyes.

That smirk was full-blown now. Syaoron had to stand on his tip toes to get his mouth up to Yuui’s ear, and he did, pressing his hands on Yuui’s shoulders for balance and drawing Yuui’s ear INTO his mouth and biting down JUST hard enough to hurt.

“Then make me,” he whispered.

 


End file.
